Don't Let Them See You Cry
by AnAuthorMostPeculiar
Summary: Even queens have to suffer through life's everyday trials. Drabble written after a bad day and some beer. Regina/Emma friendship, minuscule amount of SQ.


**Ever have one of those days when the world seems out to get you? Or when it's like you're your own worst enemy and everyone else is your accomplice? Yep, had one of those today. So, instead of going to the gym or doing some other productive, stress relieving activity, I decided to lay on my bed (cause to hell with the couch), drink a beer and write sheer nonsense for my favorite fandom. Sorry for any typos, grammatical errors, etc.**

 **"My heart is so tired."**  
 **-Rudyard Kipling**

There are very few things in this world that feel worse than pretending that you feel nothing. The headache that sets in as you clench your jaw and grind your teeth against the words that you wish to lash out with, that could cut like a knife and make you instantly regret them. The ache behind your eyes as you force the tears back can persist long into the night, denying the sleep you crave. Your chest feels tight as you swallow the anger, the frustration and the sheer desperation to be understood. Your heart hangs heavy in your chest and it's more than an expression, it's a physical reality. You can't breathe.

This feeling nothing is something Regina has long become used to, both as Queen and Mayor. It doesn't make walking through her front door at the end of the day any easier. Most would walk into the solace of their homes and let loose the poison bottled in their blood, cleansing themselves through tears and rants and tantrums and raves. They would fall into the arms of some special somebody and feel arms form a welcoming, accepting circle around them and be filled with a sense that tomorrow could be, would be better.

For the evil queens and lonely hearts of this world, tomorrow could never be happy.

Regina paused in her doorway and swallowed several times, forcing the feelings back down the length of her throat. Even here, in this place that should have been her shelter, she could not break down. If she broke down here, nothing would keep her from falling apart completely. Around town and at the office, it was easy to maintain her demeanor. It's astonishing what public perception and the threat of losing face can motivate one to do and for her, it gave her the extra nudge needed to harden herself against the world. Her tongue was never sharper than when she had an audience to watch her. Here in this house however, she was without audience, without motivation, and without reason to remain strong, and it was here she most desperately needed her strength.

Regina moved mechanically around the foyer as she dutifully hung her jacket and placed her purse on the table. She paused at the mirror hung there, inspecting her hair and makeup. Both were immaculate. She paused once again at the bottom of the stairs, debating on changing into something a bit more comfortable. She quickly disregarded the notion, opting to bear her mayoral mask for the rest of the evening. Who knows, with her luck, her intolerably idiotic Sheriff and her charming posse could make an unannounced visit. They were overdue a disaster in their sleepy little town, after all.

And perhaps therein lay the problem.

Storybrooke had found itself without a villain to vanquish for several months now, and it seemed its residents were beginning to focus on the more mundane of matters. Infrastructure was suddenly on everyone's mind, maintenance was an issue from one end of town to the other, and good gods both new and old why couldn't anyone get a decent internet connection or cell phone reception? And of course, the fairytale knee jerk reaction to these seemingly new and definitely not inconsequential issues was to find someone to blame. A villain naturally. And alas, no 'villain' was easier to blame than one well known, highly visible and holding a position in public office.

Regina's day had consisted almost entirely of complaints and accusations. If it wasn't the munchkins (dwarves, gnomes or whatever), it was those damn fairies. And while Regina prided herself on being able to fix the majority, if not all of Storybrooke's problems, even she had her limits. Even Sheriff 'Savior' Swan had called her bitching about the paperwork deadline and 'oh hey, while we're at it, ever think about investing in some new patrol vics, Madame Mayor? 'Cause it's a little hard to do my job when old Grandmother Willow can outrun our cars with her walker'.

The brunette woman shook away all thoughts pertaining to her seeming day from Hades himself and made her way to her kitchen. Intent on making dinner, she lost herself momentarily. Cooking was something she could do and enjoyed doing. This, this was something she knew no one could say she did wrong. Except for maybe Granny, who would try to say something against her lasagna. Try, mind you. That old wolf liked arguing almost as much as the Evil Queen herself. It gave her a good excuse to shoot that thrice cursed crossbow of hers.

The clock ticked on as Regina finished preparations for dinner. With the salad made and a casserole baking in the oven, she went about setting the dining room table. She had never been one to eat in the kitchen or on the couch. It was as she placed the last of the silverware on the table that her mind caught up to her and she froze, fingers still on the finely polished cutlery. She had set the table up for two. Today was Wednesday.

Over the past year, she and Emma had managed to lock on a routine with their son, Henry. Instead of messing up his weekends with a move between the mayoral mansion and his birthmother's apartment, they had decided mid-week was when he would switch homes. Tonight was his first night back at Emma's. Regina was alone.

Perhaps it was that realization, that her beloved son wasn't just up the stairs reading some comic or another, or it was the second glass of cider sitting on the countertop by the stove where she had left it, that sent Regina over the edge. Whatever it was, whatever she would choose to blame it on in the morning, Regina found herself unable to hold back. Her hand came over her mouth as she muffled the sob that worked its way up her throat. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes and, damn it all to hell, there went her make up. She backed up so that her shoulders and back hit the wall behind her and she slumped against it. At that moment, she wasn't a queen, she wasn't a mayor, she wasn't even a mother. She was broken, a tired woman with no reason to hold the remnants of a battered heart together. She slid the rest of the way down the wall and buried her face in her hands, chocking back sobs. One thought rose unbidden to the forefront of her exhausted mind.

On top of everything, she was now going to have to get this stupid suit dry cleaned. There was no way in hell she was going to iron out the wrinkles.

The salad was easily wrapped up and stored in the refrigerator, though the casserole had been unsalvageable. The smoke alarm had alerted her through her tear numbed mind that it was now beyond saving. That second glass of cider had turned into her fourth and well, she might as well finish the decanter at this point. Work would be hell tomorrow either way.

Regina was about to head up the stairs and forgo eating entirely when the sound of the doorbell startled her. She looked of the front door in shock, as if it had done something completely unnatural for a door to do. Not that they really did anything in a sense. But, who would be on her porch ringing the doorbell at this hour? She was tempted to not find out. Nevertheless, she quickly brushed her hands over her cheeks and ran fingers through her hair in an attempt to make herself more presentable. Hopefully, the low lighting would mask the worst of her meltdown. Steely expression in place and her previously runaway emotions locked down tight, she opened the door, ready to lay into whoever dare disturb her with some stupid, idiotic complaint.

Henry grinned up at her as he moved past her into the foyer. A pizza box was clutched tightly in his hands and he was babbling about Snow and David and Neal not wanting to stop crying and it being hard to study, much less sleep. Emma remained on the porch, a nervous expression on her face and a guilty look in her eyes. When Regina looked back over at her, her brown eyes expressionless and her face impassive, the blonde hurriedly began to explain herself.

"Listen, 'Gina," she muttered, running a hand nervously through her hair. "I know he's supposed to be at my place but honestly, my parents are kind going nuts with Neal and dinner sorta got ruined so he asked if we could order pizza and just come here. I know I shoulda asked but..." The Savior paused when she finally took a moment to really look at Regina. The Mayor's mascara was smudged and her eyes slightly bloodshot. She looked more than a little out of it.

"Regina," she questioned, eyes narrowing as she stepped closer. "Everything okay?"

Regina sighed and bowed her, willing back the sudden rush of fresh tears. Emma immediately moved forward and placed her hands on the brunette's shoulders. Her green eyes shone with concern.

"Hey, what's wrong? Are you alright?" At the older woman's silence she pulled her closer to her in a feeble attempt to comfort.

No, no she wasn't alright. Regina leaned forward and placed&her head on Emma's shoulder, startling both of them at her acceptance of the offered comfort, but she couldn't bring herself to care. After a brief moment of shock, the blonde woman smiled tenderly and closed her arms around Regina in a loose hug. For the first time all day, Regina let a small, almost unnoticeable smile grace her lips.

No, she was alright. But perhaps, with time, she could be.


End file.
